


Trained

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 14:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13389426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Gladiolus is just minding his own business when Prompto begs Ignis for help.





	Trained

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“I’m afraid Thursday is already fully booked,” Ignis counters, his eyes on his screen and his long fingers swiping left. Gladiolus shakes his head out of pure frustration, even knowing Ignis isn’t looking.

“How can he possibly be that busy? He hardly does anything—”

“He’s volunteering at the city library for the school’s book sale, and he has a job interview after that, as well as entrance exams for the university—”

“An interview and exams? Are you kidding me? He’s a _prince_! He’ll already be accepted—”

“He still needs to undergo the due process—”

“And he needs to _train_ ,” Gladiolus cuts in, because really, that’s more important than all the rest. Yes, they need an intelligent, well-rounded heir, but that won’t do them any good if he doesn’t _survive_. Someone with a profile as high as Noctis’ faces all kinds of risks. Ignis sighs and continues checking his phone, clearly _trying_ to fit in Gladiolus’ request, even though every time Gladiolus visits Noctis—whether at the palace or his escapist apartment—he’s always doing very little, half draped over Prompto with a video game in one hand and a pack of junk food in the other. That’s another reason he needs regular training—to keep in shape despite all the crap he eats. 

Ignis suggests, “Perhaps on Saturday evening...”

Gladiolus opens his mouth to say that doesn’t work for _him_ ; he promised to have dinner with Iris on Saturday. But before he can get the words out, the elevator clicks, and the two of them glance down the length of the elaborate hallway. They probably should’ve tucked off somewhere private to talk, but Ignis’ schedule is so hectic that Gladiolus prefers to pin Ignis down whenever he gets the chance. The metallic doors swish open, and Prompto steps out, a couple floors short of where he likely means to—Noctis’ suite is higher up.

But Ignis’ quarters are right behind them, and Prompto beelines right for them, smiling strangely nervously. They both wait in the doorway, their own conversation politely benched. When Prompto reaches them, he stops and chirps at Gladiolus, “Hey, big guy—mind if I talk to Iggy for a minute?”

Gladiolus gestures for Prompto to go ahead, but Prompto coughs and adds, “Uh... alone?”

In his peripheral, Gladiolus can see Ignis cocking one eyebrow. Gladiolus snorts, “Why can’t I hear it?”

Prompto’s shoulders stiffen, something easy for Gladiolus to catch, because his job is all about subtle, physical signs, and he’s come to know Prompto’s slender frame like the back of his own hand. It’s easy enough to see the faint blush that stirs beneath his freckles when he stumbles, “It’s just, uh—it’s about Noct...” 

“Then I definitely need to hear it,” Gladiolus decides, because: “as his bodyguard, I need to know what kind of trouble you’re planning on getting up to.”

Prompto dons an affronted look, as though he and Noctis never do _anything_ wrong. He splutters, blush deepening, but then he sucks in a breath and mutters, “Fine.” He turns back to Ignis, looking twice as determined, and says, “I want to, um... please Noct.”

In the short pause that follows, Gladiolus doesn’t understand. But then Prompto bursts, crystal clear: “I-I just want to know what he likes, y’know, just in case, so I get it right the first time, and I figured you’d know—I mean, not that you’d _know_ , y’know? But like, instinctively, you’d probably get it more right than anyone else, so you could at least give me a few pointers. And maybe, uh... show me...?”

Gladiolus _stares_ at Prompto’s cute face, then turns his gaze to Ignis’ more classical features, expression admirably stoic, even now. Ignis slowly answers, “I think you ‘please’ Noct just fine.” 

Prompto’s beet red. It couldn’t be more obvious that he means _more_ than that, but Gladiolus lets Prompto explain that. Prompto shrinks and whines, “Not like _that_! Like... more than just a friend. But... we’ve been friends so long, and I don’t wanna mess it up and do something he doesn’t like, so I just... thought...”

Finally, Ignis’ cheeks are starting to flush. Gladiolus instantly memorizes the view, because it’s a rare one, and the sort of thing that he would definitely snap a picture of if he was as camera-happy as Prompto is. Unfortunately, if he tried to do it now, it would be way too conspicuous. Ignis asks, “Why in the world would you come to _me_ for that?”

“Because!” Prompto chirps, like it’s obvious. “You’re the best at everything, Iggy—we always ask you when we need to know stuff.” Ignis opens his mouth, maybe to proclaim that he’s not necessarily the best at _pleasing his prince_ (although Gladiolus, like Prompto, would be willing to bet otherwise), but Prompto rolls on, “And besides, you know _Noct._ You get him better than anyone, right? So you could probably guess exactly what sort of things he’s... uh... into.... Just... _show me how to kiss him, please?_ ” The last part is rushed so fast that Gladiolus barely catches it.

Ignis blinks, repeating bluntly, “Kiss?”

Prompto gives an awkward, forced laugh that doesn’t at all change the heated mood of the hallway. “Yeah, that should be fine—it’s not exactly like I’m applying to be the royal concubine and coming to you for training or anything. I just... y’know... wanna do it right when we start. I start. If he’s... if he goes for it.”

 _The royal concubine._ That’s one fantasy Gladiolus doesn’t need, but he knows it’s just slipped irreparably into his arsenal, both the parts of Prompto providing service and Ignis teaching it. And, weirdly enough, Prompto looks so wholly _adorable_ asking, flushed and soft spoken and big, blue eyes so full of hope. It’s almost enough for _Gladiolus_ to volunteer, even though he’s sure he’d wind up slamming Prompto into the wall a lot harder than Noctis would, and while he can now imagine Prompto and Noctis sweetly licking one another like two cuddly kittens, he’d probably just ram his tongue down Prompto’s throat and fuck Prompto’s pretty mouth.

Or just watch Ignis do it. Which is equally as wrong and yet so tantalizing. Gladiolus always knew he was playing a dangerous game, hanging around such attractive men, all just a little _too_ close to one another. If he was smart, he’d just leave, and phone Ignis about Noctis’ schedule, and make sure that Prompto didn’t show up for practice and Noctis kept his shirt on the whole time regardless of how sweaty and ragged Gladiolus ran him.

But Gladiolus isn’t that smart, and he stays put, watching the resolve crumble behind Ignis’ glasses. He wonders if Ignis really is thinking about Noctis’ tastes. Ignis has always been overly concerned with his care of Noctis. Maybe a part of him would want to do all he could to keep Noctis fully satisfied, even in the bedroom. 

Ignis slowly says, “That... would hardly be appropriate...”

“Just one kiss?” Prompto pleads, hands clasping together like he’s really _begging_ , just when Gladiolus thought he couldn’t get any more endearing. “It’s for Noct; I swear! Just do what you think is best, and I’m sure his preferences will just naturally come to you.” Gladiolus snorts before he can stop himself.

Ignis glances at him, and Gladiolus, already ruined, goads, “Just do it.” Ignis gives him a sharp look of surprise, and Gladiolus just shrugs, guilty as charged.

He’s still surprised when Ignis nods, earning a delighted, “Whoop!” out of Prompto. Then Gladiolus gets to watch in utter fascination as Ignis leans forward, hand lifting up to gently cup Prompto’s chin, lithe fingers slipping along his smooth jaw. Ignis’ thumb pries Prompto down, and Prompto obediently parts his lips, breath audibly hitching.

Ignis still hesitates. Then he murmurs, quiet and husky, slick enough to send a shiver down Gladiolus’ spine, “I believe Noctis would like to maintain control, but I don’t think you should slip into submission, either.”

Prompto’s eyes are now heavy and hazy, focused in on Ignis, yet seemingly far away as he mumbles, “Huh?”

Ignis practically _purrs_ , “Like this.” He leans forward. His lips brush over Prompto’s, sweet and subtle, allowing Prompto to let out a little gasp. Ignis quickly swallows it, coming closer, fingers threading back into Prompto’s golden hair, and then Ignis is opening wide, and Gladiolus can see the pink sliver of his tongue gliding right past Prompto’s defenses. 

Prompto _moans_. His eyes flutter shut, his chest arching forward into Ignis’ taller frame, his trim hips even thrusting closer to align with Ignis’ crotch. Ignis withdraws his tongue and tilts, thrusting it in at another angle—Prompt actually _trembles._ His hands lift to tentatively clutch at Ignis’ jacket, and at first, he’s still, until Ignis seems to coax him to life, and then he’s kissing back in careful time with Ignis, their tongues wetly fumbling over one another. The longer they kiss, the tighter Gladiolus’ pants feel.

Then Ignis finally pulls away, leaving Prompto to whine. Ignis murmurs, “I believe Noct would like it just like that.”

Prompto looks _wrecked_. Breathless, he nods. Then he lifts up on his toes to quickly peck Ignis’ cheek, and he stumbles, “Thank you.”

Ignis nods concisely. Prompto steps back, hesitates, turns, and all but bolts straight for the elevator. A moment later, he’s gone, but it’s like he’s left a cloud of overactive pheromones behind him. Gladiolus can’t even remember what he originally came up here for. It’s all he can do not to chase Prompto down and offer to teach him how to fuck.

Ignis clears his throat. He turns back to his phone, refusing to meet Gladiolus’ eye, and asks far too calmly, “Saturday evening, then? I can have him there by five o’clock.”

It takes Gladiolus a moment to remember they’re talking about Noctis. And then it takes even longer to resist adding that Noctis might have his nights booked up for a while now.

Finally, he grunts, “Doesn’t matter. Let’s discuss it... later.” Because right now he has a rather pressing problem to take care of.

He’s halfway to the elevator when Ignis quietly asks, “Would you like... a helping hand?”

Gladiolus stops abruptly, whirling around. Ignis has the same serious look on his face he always does after making a bad play on words. Assuming that’s what that was. Gladiolus stares him down, until Ignis reaches out to push the door to his quarters wider open. 

Gladiolus instantly answers, “Yup,” and hurries over.


End file.
